Last night, I had a dream
I was self-realized
The 'I' that writes this
Didn't exist then
Like Jesus on the Cross
The Cross is me
My torturers are me
The hurt is me
Then how can this pain of nails
Biting into 'my' flesh ever hurt me
For am I not ever the nails
The blood and the pain?
Outside on the horizon
A Christmas sun is drowning
Itself into reddish inebriation
So let the exhilarated hand type on
Whatever it can
Before the dark
Pushes it forever down
Into unknown oblivion
Food for thought. I'm looking at situations from a different angle. Thanks.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Only one who dies to himself can enter a state of sublimation when pain and joy do not exist and Consciousness or the indwelling divinity alone surfaces. He is then an Atman! (I am not quite familiar with this philosophy) . But Jesus- the Son of God when took flesh and blood in the form of man, I am made to believe, he had pain and suffering and also joy like any other human being! This poem looking at the crucifixion from a different angle is indeed unique and opens the door for dialectical and philosophical discussion!